Black Dalliances (A Blushing Death Novel) (13 page)

Chapter 12

Dean stood hesitant in the bathroom door looking at me as if he didn’t know what to do.

“Did he leave?”

I nodded.

“What are you waiting for? Get him before he gets too far.”

I didn’t wait for him to urge me again. Grabbing the black silk robe on the back of the door, I took off running.

The robe Patrick had bought me, along with all of my possessions, had burned in the house fire. After a couple of werewolves had tried to make my death look like an accident by setting fire to my house, more than my wardrobe had been destroyed. My entire life had gone up in the fire and my best friend, Amblan, had been murdered.

I headed down the stairs in my bare feet. Tying the robe around me as I ran, I followed him out the front door, only a moment or two behind him. It was enough to make my heart race, fearing I might not catch him. This was my chance, it might be our last chance.

As I burst onto the porch, I caught movement across the street and into Schiller Park. My bare feet slapped on the warm pavement as I ran. I jetted out in front of an oncoming car, hesitating in the headlights and the blaring horn for a moment before I darted off into the grass of the park like a deer into the woods.

“Patrick!” I yelled. My voice echoed in the silent darkness. Anger made the sound of his name sharp across my lips. Fifty yards away, a man walking a small Pekinese glanced up from down the lane. His eyes went wide as the flash of my ass in the streetlight told him I was in nothing but my robe.

“Sorry,” I murmured, sprinting the last twenty yards. Closing the distance between me and Patrick’s stiff, ramrod straight form, my heart thundered and I didn’t give a shit about shutting my emotions down. He’d stopped and that was something, but he hadn’t turned to look at me.

“Patrick?” Even I heard the pleading in my voice and cringed.

“Yes,” he hissed, spinning to face me.

My insides clenched at his tone. He’d never spoken to me with such, I don’t even know. Disgust? Revulsion? Or maybe it was just blind hatred.

“Were you going to say anything?” I asked, finally finding my voice. His shoulders were stiff and rigid, his arms plastered to his side with his hands balled up into tight fists.

“Such as?” he snapped.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe ‘Hi’ for starters. Then perhaps a ‘How’ve you been? Gee whiz, Dahlia, I haven’t seen you in almost a week,’” I lashed out, unable to play the sweet sacrificial lamb anymore. Rampaging bitch was a better part for me anyway.

“I would never utter the words
gee whiz
,” he snorted with straight-faced contempt.

“That’s not the point, and you know it,” I bit out through clenched teeth.

“The point is that I can’t seem to catch you in-between mongrels.” His tone was flat, emotionless.

I shuttered at his viciousness, delivered with the practiced ease of an asshole. This wasn’t the Patrick I knew. Dean was his friend, and I knew he didn’t think of the werewolf he’d helped save as a mongrel. He’d thought of Danny that way, but not Dean.

“That’s unfair,” I whispered.

“Is it? I heard, saw, even smelled enough to know what had been going on. If that isn’t the point, my dear Dahlia, then what is?” He almost sneered at me, and my anger bubbled up again at the challenge in his gaze.

Yeah, he knew what Dean and I had been doing but I also knew that he hadn’t been as innocent as he’d like me to believe.

“The point is that we need to talk. You can’t go on ignoring me. You can’t keep pretending I don’t exist,” I shouted.

“Trust me,
sweetheart
,” he bit out with venom, “at this moment, I’m very aware you exist.”

I ignored the anger in that one word.

“Then why?” I breathed.

“I don’t trust you!” he bellowed. “I have no idea what you’ve been doing, where you’ve been doing it . . . or who you’ve been doing it with. Clearly, as the scene I just walked in on proves, I have reason to distrust you,” he said, darting his eyes back toward the house. His lip curled up in a snarl I hadn’t seen since the night I’d killed Ethan. But he’d never directed that snarl at me, and now, as his dark gaze landed on me, my stomach twisted into tight, painful knots of guilt.

“Is that what you think I was doing? Fucking my way across the country. Is that what you think of me?” I spat out. He couldn’t have hurt me more if he’d struck me.

“Why should I think differently?” he shouted, finally giving in to the anger flashing through his dark eyes. He’d been trying so hard to remain in control but he’d finally lost it.

“Because you know me.” My voice was soft, meek, almost pleading. I hugged myself to keep him from seeing my hands tremble.

“Maybe that’s the point,” he snapped. “I do know you. You jumped on top of me fast enough, and I can only image the positions Dean had you in as he fucked you.”

My heart tightened in my chest and my breath rushed from my body. As the world spun on its axis, I tried to process what he’d just said. It was almost as if time stopped, my heart stopped, my breath frozen in my chest as his words, his meaning, sank in. For the first time, I thought it possible Patrick may never have loved me. How could he? He thought I was a whore.

Tears prickled at the back of my eyes, begging me to let them fall. I beat them back as time rushed back into existence and the world started moving again. I wouldn’t let him see me cry. I couldn’t let him see how much he’d hurt me with just a few words.

I turned my back on him without another word, and headed back to the house. In my mind, the conversation was over. My life as I’d once known it. Over.

Staring at the house that had so quickly become a home to me, I caught Dean’s glare but I knew it wasn’t directed at me. He sat on the front porch’s top step, remaining quiet in the dark. I hesitated, almost stumbling in my bare feet as our eyes met.

Dean was far enough away for the illusion of privacy but I knew he’d heard every word. He could’ve probably heard the guy snoring on the next block. The realization hit me like a sledgehammer that Dean had heard Patrick call me a whore. Dean knew he didn’t have to defend me, trusted me enough to defend myself, but this was one of the few times I’d wished he had said something. I threw my shoulders back and stormed back toward the house.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Patrick asked, the words sharp as broken glass.

Stopping, the grass cold beneath my bare feet, I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to hold anything in any longer. I was tired of holding it in. It took more energy than I possessed and had caused this situation in the first place. The first searing fire of rage burned through me, and I felt whole again.

“I’m going back to the house. I love you, Patrick, but until you can respect me, we have nothing left to say to each other.”

“Don’t you dare walk away from me.” He growled the order at me as if I was one of his vampires to command. “I will not tolerate your superior attitude!”

“You won’t talk to me,” I finally yelled, my frustration showing in the rigid line of my body as all my muscles tensed, ready for retaliation.

“I can’t talk to you,” he ground out, his teeth gritting as his dark eyes flashed. “What am I supposed to say to you? You left me.”

Staring at him, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides, his usually full lips curved in a snarl of anger, and his dark eyes bearing down on me like a laser, I finally saw the hurt behind his anger. With a deep breath, I released the tension in my body and took a step forward. I could fix this. If I could only get him to listen to me, I knew I could fix this and make everything better for him. For us.

“Pat! Behind you!” Dean shouted, blind panic ringing in his deep voice.

My gaze snapped up at Dean. He’d come down the few steps and was headed toward us in an all-out sprint.

I turned. From out of nowhere, a tall, dark-haired man with a scar scoring his cheek from lips to ear stood to Patrick’s right. Having had my great-grandmother and grandmother fill my head with Russian fairytales and their Russian culture, I sure knew a Cossack when I saw one. My degree in Russian didn’t hurt either. In the dark, I squinted at the man, trying to place him. He seemed familiar, like I’d met him before. Under the felt hat and heavy fur cloak, I couldn’t make him out clearly. The only thing absolutely in focus was the glint of moonlight reflecting off the long, curved saber pressed to Patrick’s throat.

On Patrick’s left stood a petite package of femininity. Dark hair with long lustrous curls tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. She had deep black eyes that seemed like a pair of onyx stones staring back at me. She also wore a heavy fur-lined cloak. It was too damned warm for fur.

“I know what you are thinking?” the woman said with an accent that was everywhere and nowhere, all wrapped up into a soft milky soprano. “Is the blade silver or no?” she sang. “Let me answer your question. It is,” she said as Dean strode up beside me.

“Thanks, but actually, I was wondering if I could snap your necks before you had a chance to cut his skin. But your little tidbit is good to know, too,” I replied, letting my snarky bitch take over instead of the fear twisting in my gut.

“Baby,” Dean cautioned softly.

Patrick’s eyes went wide as he stared back at me in horror. He hadn’t heard them coming or they wouldn’t have him at a blade’s edge. I hadn’t seen them or heard them either, stepping almost out of thin air.

I took a step closer and everyone reacted.

Chapter 13

The Cossack pressed the sword against Patrick just a bit harder. The blade cut into his skin, singeing the pale alabaster perfection of his throat.

Patrick raised his chin, attempting to back away from the burn of the blade. The smell of charring, dead flesh filled my nose. An ache of pain twisted my gut and I knew it wasn’t mine. The flutter of Patrick’s pain tearing up my insides made my heart race and my muscles twitch to jump into a blood bath.

Dean grabbed my bicep, clamping down on my arm with a vice like grip to hold me back.

The petite woman curved her full, sensuous lips up into a malicious grin. Taunting me as if she wanted me to take another step, the woman smirked at me.

I didn’t need another step. I’d found the answer I was looking for. The area hummed with Fae magic, making my skin tingle with the sensation of something wild. They hadn’t snuck up on anyone. They’d stepped into our reality and gotten the drop on Patrick.

They’d gotten the drop on me. Who were these people and what the hell did they want?

Motherfuckers!

“What do you want?” Dean’s heavy baritone vibrated up my spine as if he’d plucked the question from my head. The only indication I had of Dean’s concern was the twinge of pain of his fingers digging into my arm just a little too hard. Other than that, he seemed calm, composed. I was glad someone was calm, even if it was a façade. I was freaking the fuck out.

“It’s simple, really,” the Petite Princess snarled at me. “I’m going to take your friend here.”

“Like hell you are! I’m not done with him yet!” I roared, letting my anger at Patrick, my fear of losing him, and the easy peace of death fill my glare.

The Petite Princess and the Cossack backed away from us, dragging Patrick with them. He stumbled, catching his feet and avoiding the blade still pressed at his neck.

I could get to Patrick, do something to stop them. I was positive of it. Trying to jerk away from Dean, I yanked but it was no use. Dean held firm, only tightening his hold on my arm and keeping me latched to his side. Dean and Patrick exchanged a glance full of unspoken commands, an understanding, that escaped me.

“You will take a message to Saeran. Tell him his little miracle is waiting for him,” she said.

“You don’t want to do this?” I snarled, yanking at Dean’s grip. “This will end badly for you,” I said, finally slipping from Dean’s hold. I took off at a dead sprint, closing the distance in several strides.

The Cossack dragged Patrick one more step back and disappeared.

My heart sank. My palms were wet with moisture, and I gasped at the quickness of their disappearance as I fell to my knees, sliding through the grass. Once he was out of sight, my job got harder. Yes, he’d been a shit since I’d gotten back but that didn’t mean I was ready to lose him altogether. I owed him an explanation, an apology that I hadn’t had time to give him. Plus, this bitch had made me look bad. Nobody took what belonged to me. And whether Patrick liked it or not, he still belonged to me. Until we were over and done, he was still mine.

“Shit,” I whispered.

“Remember.” She smiled at me. She actually fucking smiled. “Saeran for your friend. Give him the message.”

“I’m going to pluck your pretty eyes from their sockets,” I snarled.

She flipped the cloak over her shoulder and leaned in. She was far enough away that I couldn’t snatch her ass up by the hair but close enough for me to hear her whisper. I placed my hands down on the ground and hopped up onto the balls of my feet, crouching and ready to pounce. She was so close. The scent of ancient woods and sulfur filled my nose. Who was this bitch, seriously?

“I’ve had worse,” she goaded, smirking at me.

I leapt at her, my body weightless as I soared through the air. Before I could wrap my hands around her tiny neck, she stepped back into nothing and was gone.

I hit the ground and rolled. Quickly getting to my feet, I stormed to the patch of grass where they’d disappeared.

“Shit!” I snarled again.

“You said that.”

“They’re gone. They’re fucking gone!” I screamed.

“The portal’s closed.”

“Maybe there’s some mumbo jumbo we can say to open it?” I asked, desperate and hopeful as I slammed my hands down on my hips.

“It’s closed, and you know it.”

Now that he’d mentioned it, I could feel the void of that wild magic they’d brought with them. But I wasn’t thinking about that. All I could think about was losing Patrick, losing Danny, losing Amblan, losing everyone, and being helpless to stop it.

“Yeah,” I sighed. The magic was definitely gone. So was Patrick. I sucked my bottom lip in-between my teeth and closed my eyes. I had to get ahold of myself. Patrick was depending on me.

My heart raced, my palms were moist with sweat, and my breath was as heavy as lead in my chest. I couldn’t focus. My mind kept rampaging through images of Danny’s blood on my hands and Amblan’s charred silver wings. I couldn’t lose Patrick and Dean, too. I tightened my hands into fists to stop them from trembling. Anything was better than this horrible, helplessness that crept through me.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby,” he murmured as if he could read the fear on my face. “And we’ll get Pat back.”

“Okay,” I said with a ragged breath, nodding my head. I had to think. Cowering in a corner wouldn’t help get Patrick back and that wasn’t me.

I glanced around at the empty park but I couldn’t get the woman’s face out of my mind. Her features and dark hair bounced around in the back of my brain.

“That’s going to bother me,” I said to myself.

“What?”

“That woman seemed familiar but I can’t place her,” I said, kneeling down by the spot where they’d disappeared. “Hell, they both seemed familiar.”

“Smells familiar, too,” Dean said, towering over me.

I glared back over my shoulder and met his intense blue gaze.

“Is she the one from the woods? From the Manit?”

“Umm hmm,” Dean grunted.

“And she wants Saeran.”

“Yep.”

We were back to monosyllabic answers. Somehow, his shift back to Gaoh gave me reassurance and made me feel a whole lot better.

“Then let’s give her Saeran.”

“Hmmm.” Dean knelt down to the grass beside me as I searched the ground. “What’re ya looking for?”

“The ring of mushrooms,” I answered, pointing them out to him. I’d have to remember to come out here and dig them up when this was all over. I didn’t particularly want a Fae portal next to my house. “That’s where the portal originated.” I stood up and relieved some of the pressure from my knees. “We need Saeran at the club. Do you think we can gather him and the others in an hour?”

I’d slipped into command mode so easily that it should have scared me. It didn’t, though. Being in command allowed me to ignore the gnawing in my gut that Patrick was in danger, to forget that every second mattered, and take control of a world that was perpetually out of control.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Dean said, standing to his full height, his muscular chest puffed out, and his face stern.

“Good, then do it. I’ve got to get dressed and I want as few people to know about this as possible.” I turned on my heels and started back toward the house.

“Baby?” The soft question in his voice was enough to stop me in my tracks. “You don’t have to go.”

Hell yes, I did!

Even if I had to bring Patrick back from Hell by his hair, I’d always make that journey. I’d make it for both of them.

“He may be an asshole right now but he’s still Patrick and I love him. He’s my asshole, whether he likes it or not. Plus, I can’t apologize or punch him in the face for being that asshole, if he isn’t around,” I said as I crossed the street.

“Sounds ‘bout right.”